The Holiday Blahs
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Kurt just can't seem to get into the holiday spirit. He doesn't know why, he just isn't feeling very Christmas-y. But Blaine knows someone who might be able to help. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**_Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt "fraction". Daddies!Klaine. Angst and emotional hurt/comfort, but mostly fluffy holiday schmoop._**

"Hey, baby." Blaine takes off his coat and hangs it beside Kurt's on the hooks by their front door. "How was your afternoon? Get any work done?"

"Tons," Kurt answers dryly from his seat on the sofa, where his laptop, files, and other miscellaneous work items lie scattered beside him, creating a haphazard retaining wall that separates him from the rest of the room.

Blaine walks in and marvels at how festive their family room looks – a vast difference from the stylish and modern day-to-day ambiance it had had that morning.

"You decorated!" Blaine exclaims, walking towards the focal point of the room – their seven-and-a-half foot, fully lit, artificial California cedar. "And you put up the _tree_!"

"Yes, I did," Kurt mutters, fully engrossed in the photo of a young woman modeling the latest in Tom Ford suits, part of his Spring collection. Blaine watches his husband move from photo to photo, completely unaffected by the shiny red-and-green garland strung from wall to wall, or the colorful lights twinkling in time to the joyful music playing softly in the background.

"And … it didn't help?"

"No." Kurt sighs, setting the photos aside.

"Not an inch."

"Not an inch."

"Not even a _fraction_ of an inch?"

Kurt takes off his glasses, rubs his tired eyes. "Not at all."

"That's a shame." Blaine carefully relocates a pile of Kurt's things and sits beside his husband. "I mean, it's December 5th. The department stores have their window displays up, the Santa Claus court at the mall is in full swing, we've already been skating at Rockefeller Center - you'd think you'd feel a little bit Christmas-y by now."

"I know." Kurt scoots closer and puts his head on Blaine's shoulder. "I don't understand it. Christmas is my favorite time of the year. It's the one thing that's always been able to cheer me up, even after my mom passed away. The whole year could be crap, but the minute Christmas rolled around, it made everything feel _right_ again. Hopeful. But now … I feel so _blue_."

"Maybe you're overloaded at work?" Blaine guesses, seeing as Kurt has taken on several new responsibilities this year after earning his big promotion to Executive Fashion Editor at _Vogue_. "Could that be squashing some of your Christmas cheer?"

"I work in _fashion_ , Blaine." Kurt moves a hand away from his computer and onto his husband's knee. "Next to the toy industry, it's one of the most festive industries to work in this time of year."

"Have you been missing your dad lately?"

"Well, _yeah_ ," Kurt says, followed by a soft ' _Duh'_ that makes Blaine chuckle. "But we Skype all the time. Plus, he and Carole are flying in in a few weeks. They'll be staying with us up through Christmas, so I don't really think that's it. I think I just have a case of the holiday blahs, you know?"

"Yeah." Blaine leans sideways and kisses Kurt on the crown of his head. "I know."

"And I'm beginning to notice that the older I get, the worse it gets." Kurt starts scratching the denim of Blaine's jeans, the sound of his nails raking against the fabric covering the wobble in his voice. "Maybe the magic of Christmas is wearing off for me. Maybe … maybe it's only for children, and I should just accept it."

"I don't believe that," Blaine says, gently taking the hand carving ruts into his jeans, swiping his thumb over the smooth metal of his husband's wedding band. "I think it's the magic of Christmas that makes us feel like kids again, which is kind of important when you have kids of your own. You don't want to be a Scrooge when you have a seven-year-old around, excited for Santa to show."

"You're right," Kurt says. "I know." He was thinking the exact same thing before Blaine came home. "And I'm trying. I swear. But this year …" Kurt rolls his head back and forth "… I'm just not feeling it. And I don't know how to change that."

"Do you, maybe, want me to break out my old Santa costume?"

"You mean, that pair of red pants you wore for that obscene calendar you guys put together back in high school?"

"That's the one."

"Does it still _fit_?"

"There's only one way to find out."

"Usually I'd say let's give it a shot, but I don't know if that'll cheer me up … or make me feel like a giant perv."

"It was a suggestion." Blaine's ears perk up at the sound of a vehicle stopping in front of their house. He glances at the clock on the mantel, checking the time, and smiles. "Though … I think someone just arrived who can help."

"Yeah?" Kurt slips his glasses back on his nose, preparing to return to his work. "Only if they're delivering a gallon bottle of tequila."

"Oh, they're delivering something a little bit better than that."

Blaine leaps off the sofa and rushes to the front door before whoever on the other side can ring the bell. He throws it open along with his arms in greeting to the person on the other side.

"Buttercup!"

"Daddy!"

Kurt's head pops up at the sound of his daughter's voice. He looks over at the clock. _2:30 already?_ he thinks. God! The day flew by, and he barely got anything done! Of course, he'd stopped for a few hours in the middle to get the place decorated. It had taken him longer than he'd anticipated. He had to pause periodically to catch his breath when an ornament or two caused a surge of melancholy to bubble to the surface, but it was just as important to finish as the work he's currently behind on.

He remembers the Christmas his father forgot, when he was about Tracy's age – the one right after his mom passed away. He remembers how abandoned he'd felt, how alone. His father remembered in time to save Christmas, and everything turned out alright in the end, but Kurt doesn't want his daughter to go through that.

He might be depressed, but that didn't mean their little girl should suffer.

"Papa, Papa, Papa!"

"Hey, Tracy!" Kurt says, ready to intercept his daughter, but with a yelp, she flies right past him into the center of the room, straight to the tree.

"Oh! Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! Daddy! You put up the tree!"

"Your _Papa_ put up the tree!" Blaine says, redirecting credit where credit is due.

Tracy puts her hands up to her face and gasps, and Kurt's heart squeezes, wondering if Tracy had noticed his recent moodiness with regard to the holidays. _Of course, she did!_ he scolds himself. _Kids her age notice everything!_

"Papa! It's the most beautiful tree in the whole _universe_!"

"Tracy!" Kurt laughs. "It's the same tree we had last year! And the year before that! It's not even _decorated_ yet!"

"I don't care! It's _our_ tree and that's all that matters!" She spins on the balls of her feet and flings herself into Kurt's arms. "Thank you, Papa! Thank you! This is going to be the _best Christmas ever_!" Tracy hugs her father tighter, and Kurt hugs her back, holding her so close, Blaine suspects it'll take till next Christmas to untangle the two.

"Does that help?" he asks, rubbing circles onto Tracy's back, wanting to be a part of this moment without taking his daughter's attention away from Kurt.

Kurt rests his chin on Tracy's small shoulder and sighs. "It doesn't hurt."


End file.
